


Monsters & Gods

by JelliclePussycat



Category: Chilling Adventures of Sabrina (TV 2018)
Genre: Edgeplay, F/F, Filthy, Hurt/Comfort, Painful Sex, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sex Magic, Shameless Smut, kinda graphic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-04
Updated: 2020-11-04
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:35:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,090
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27383536
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JelliclePussycat/pseuds/JelliclePussycat
Summary: When she’s in a foul mood, Zelda Spellman can turn into a monster.[Zelda x reader x Lilith]
Relationships: Zelda Spellman/Mary Wardwell | Madam Satan | Lilith/Reader
Comments: 3
Kudos: 46





	Monsters & Gods

**Author's Note:**

> This is pure filth, you gays, but it’s soft in the end.  
> Not betaed and Eng is not my first language: every mistake is my own. Also, this is my first time writing with a reader involved so idk if it's trash lol
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ORw5Sv0Ch-0

MONSTERS & GODS

It’s night, the rest of the Spellmans are upstairs, each in their rooms, sleeping for a couple of hours. You’re reading a book in one of the living rooms, waiting for your girlfriend, Zelda, to come home from the Academy.

It’s not unusual for her to come home late, especially since her new role of Directrix, in which she seems to have given body and soul. You admire her determination and passion, so you patiently wait for her to settle in the new routine, without complaining about her total lack of attention. You make sure to be there for her when you need her, you advise her when you can, you help her wash her hair in the tub when she’s too tired to do it herself and you hold her in bed to make sure she knows she’s doing her best and that everyone is grateful for it.

You jump on the sofa when you feel the shift of air behind you, and hear the angry pacing of heels hitting the wooden floor.

“Zelda?”

“Ungrateful brats!” She shouts behind clenched teeth.

“Zelda, keep your voice down!” You admonish in the loudest whisper you can manage, fearing she might wake up the whole house. She’s stressed and tired and obviously, something has made her cross, but you can manage.

“You think you know better?” She spats, and you startle when she uses her magic to close the door with a thud.

You frown, confused, putting the book down and standing uncomfortably on your feet, crossing your arms tight around your body. Sometimes she scares you.

“What happened?” You try timidly, but when she glares, you regret asking.

She takes a few long strides, closing the distance between you two, and the flames blaze into the green of her eyes. You barely notice her fingers hooking on the buttons of her jacket, pulling at them in haste.

“Mortals are easier to tame, am I right?” She barks. You stare, not entirely sure if you’re supposed to answer that. You’re still considering when one of her hands reaches your wrist. She tugs at it, squeezing painfully. “Mortals listen because they have to. Because they cannot fight back.”

When she leans toward you, you can smell the strong scent of liquor and cigarette coming from her parted lips and instinctively your head lolls back.

“Are you drunk?” You query, surprised. That woman can chug two bottles of bourbon in a day and feel nothing due to her magic nature, but now you can’t recognize her.

“What if I am?” She replies with a crooked smile, her hand snake on the back of your neck, she pulls you forward, your lips brush together. “My little mortal slut doesn’t approve?” She asks, her voice high and almost chanting as she mocks you.

You feel hot tears pricking at your eyes. You know you’re just a mortal, you know you’ll grow old and wither way before her, that you’re powerless and less than the weakest of witches, but she has no rights to talk to you like that.

“Zelda, you need to stop-”

“You know why I chose you, pet?” She grins, drunken eyes roaming up your body and before you know it, her free hand grips around your throat. You try to break free, begging for her to loosen her hold, but she doesn’t. “Because you’re so easy to break.” She assaults your lips when you gasp for air and she doesn’t let you go until your sight blurs, the room closing into a vignette around her face.

She pushes you away, and you stumble, afraid and confused, as you struggle to catch your breath. You consider for a moment calling for help, but then you remind yourself that it’s just Zelda, you can manage, you just need to calm her down, talk to her, reassure her, and everything will be fine.

You raise your hands before you, yielding, but also ready to defend yourself if she decides to launch into you. Zelda is smiling almost wickedly now. Any other time, you would've melted for that lustful gaze, the way her mouth is parted as she pants ragged breaths, but now you’re just scared.

It takes her a flick of her wrist to strip you naked. Taken aback, you try to cover yourself, walking backward when she starts to close the distance between the two of you, a predatory expression deforming her beautiful features.

“Zelda, stop-” You plead, but she’s already onto you, her mouth assaulting your neck, her hands probing against your beasts, kneading aggressively at the tender flesh, twirling your nipples until you cry out. At the first attempt to push her away, she restrains your hands with her magic and you’re forced to stay still, whining when her teeth close around your flesh, certainly leaving bruises in their wake.

“See? So easy to tame.” She mumbles against your skin, her greedy fingers grabbing your waist painfully, her sharp nails digging into your flesh as if you’re made of butter. Her mouth and teeth trail down, find your right breast, and she licks every time she bites down on your flesh.

Despite yourself, you close your eyes and helplessly give in to the sensation.

When her slender finger finds your center, you’re almost embarrassed when she hums against your pert nipple.

“And so _willing_ to be tame.” She murmurs, utterly pleased with herself.

You would like to recoil, but you can’t bring yourself to do it, and when she rubs her hand against you, her fingers parting your slick folds, finding your clit almost immediately since she’s mapped your body months ago, you find yourself melting into her. Your arms hurl to her neck and you rest your forehead on top of her shoulder, your hips bucking on their own volition.

Her movements are slow and sweet. The contrast with her previous words and rough actions is almost surreal and you think she’s calmed down, that if you let her fuck you, maybe she can let some steam off and then let you lead her to your bedroom to hold her all night. The thought that this was all just for show crosses your mind; after all, Zelda can be rough sometimes, but you’re not innocent: you like it and she knows it.

By the time she’s suckling on your nipple, her mouth moving in sync with her finger up the length of you, you’re almost sure it’s alright and you relax against her, but as soon as you do, the stinging pain on your bottom cheek, where she’s slapped you hard, makes you jolt back. You grab her shoulders to push her slightly back, glare at her, but before you can speak, she enters you with two fingers, knocking the wind out of you. Her teeth pull your pert nipple, hard, _too_ __ hard, and you cry.

“Zelda-” You frown, trying to wiggle away, but her fingers dig again into the flesh of your hip, keeping you still.

“What? It hurts?” She asks, her hot breath brushing against your skin, damp of her own saliva, making you shudder. There’s a sick delight in her voice as she asks that, almost as if she wants you to hurt by her hand.

You frown, swallow a thick lump in your throat and nod slightly. “Yes-”

“Good.” She snarls, curling her fingers within you, pushing up to her knuckles, as far as she can go. You whine, clawing the air as your eyes shut tight, the ache between her legs transformed into a stinging and uncomfortable soreness. You gasp for air and she’s onto you again, biting and scratching at your back so hard you know she’s peeling your skin off. Zelda begins to stroke you slowly and steadily, curling her fingers to hit your depths, and soon enough you feel your inner walls clutching around her fingers, your breath hitches, and you bite down your bottom lips to stiffen your moans. Usually, Zelda would admonish you, with a sweet voice she would ask you to let her hear you… but now she doesn’t, too engaged with her own ministrations. You don’t understand what’s happening, the fright begins again to rise in your stomach.

You try to talk, but she seems to know, and angles her hand skillfully, cutting your breath off, replacing every thought with a blissful ache. She keeps going, and you realize you’re close now, and you let her know, reaching down, digging your fingers into her copper hair like you usually do.

She lets you, grinding her wrist against your clit until you’re a moaning mess, but when your walls start to clench around her fingers, she pulls away abruptly, leaving you empty and frustrated beyond words. You blink down at her, struggling to steady yourself on shaky legs, and you watch her watching you with a wicked grin, clearly satisfied with herself.

You try to regulate your breathing, glaring at her, eager to reach your release. You’ve played that game of edging before, of course, you have, and you’ve enjoyed yourself, but this is cruel, she knows you’re aching and since she’s always been able to read your eyes, she knows you’re scared and lost too. You wonder why she’s acting like that. 

“Let’s go to bed, Zelda.” You ask, beg, with a frustrated huff, pressing your thighs together to lessen the dull pain you feel there.

Zelda tilts her head, frowns. “Don’t do that.” She scolds, her voice is cold.

“Do what?” You bark back, but you regret the snapping before you even finish the sentence. Zelda is upon you, she assaults your lips, her tongue presses against your lips, and even if you try to wiggle away, not enjoying the roughness, her hands grip your jaw, and her thumb and forefinger dig into the muscles, forcing you to open your mouth anyway. You moan protests into the kiss, but she doesn’t seem to care. When you try to push her away again, she’s already gone. Her hand, flat on your back, in the crease space between your shoulders, makes you stumble to the floor, your arms and hands barely absorbing the fall as your body meets the carpet.

You don’t know what’s happening and your breath catches. The room begins to swirl around you. You roll on your back, call her name, tears clouding your sight, but only a muffled grunt comes out from your mouth. You pull yourself up, but within seconds, you’re pinned down to the floor, you look, searching, but invisible restraints have your wrists, they tug you down and you fight for a while before yielding, your back meets the floor, and you grunt. Why wouldn’t she just ask? She knows you’d let her. That game is just uncomfortable.

You fight against the invisible ropes, your hands close into fists and once again, when you’re about to talk, she roughly turns you around as if you’re a doll. Zelda straddles the back of your thighs now, her skirt is inched up, bundled around her hips. You can feel the heat radiating from her bare core as the carpet grazes against the tender flesh of your breasts, but then you feel something snake up your ankles. You frown, wiggle, but her magic is strong and you’re forced to spread your legs, Zelda spreading hers on top of you. When she stops, you look back over your shoulder, panting through your mouth. She latches her green eyes to yours, inebriated, darken with lust, when she impales you without warning, staring down at you when you cry out in pain.

“Zelda, what the fuck are you doing?” You complain. It’s not anything you haven’t done before, but she feels different. That is not your Zelda. You can feel her three fingers curling inside you, splaying, diving, stretching you, delivering an aching rapture that spreads throughout your whole body, which doesn’t taste at all of love.

You can’t move, your limbs are aching and all you can do is chase your release even if you’re aware this orgasm will have the most bitter aftertaste ever. You try to buckle your hips, meeting her rough thrusts. Zelda lets you, but you’re already wondering when she’ll pull out again and prolong your suffering. You don’t know why this is what she’s after now, and you can’t help the tears dampening your eyelashes when she buries her fingers to her knuckles deep within you. You don’t know whether you’re crying from pain or sorrow.

You’re close again, and just you’ve predicted, she yanks out her fingers from you when you need her most. You muffle your cries against the carpet when Zelda grips your hip, the other hand claws your shoulder as she scoots herself up to your back and lowers down on your spine. You feel the skin getting coaxed with her arousal as she begins to grind against the bumps of your vertebrae, guttural sounds coming from the back of her throat. Those animalistic sounds make you throb and shudder, you cherish those sounds in your heart, reminding she’s still Zelda, even if you’re doubting that by now.

You try to annihilate yourself, let her chase her own release and somehow you manage to relax your aching limbs beneath you. In Zelda’s eyes, you couldn’t do worse to make her even more crossed.

Her magic now penetrates you, an unwelcome intruder in your privates. You jolt up against the restraints, spreading your legs further to accommodate the impossible large pressure you feel at your entrance, making its way in. You imagine there’s nothing there, only invisible matter mold by the witch’s will that probes at you, a prolongation of Zelda’s herself.

_ Let them hear _ , you think at some point, your mind wandering upstairs where Hilda and Ambrose and Sabrina are sleeping.

“Stop it.” You cry out, firmly, not caring for the noise, now. But you’re powerless against her magic.

“Shut it.” She commands, her voice hoarse as she rubs herself, her eyes shut as she guides her magic inside you.

_ That’s it, I’ve had enough. _

You try to tell, but it only comes out as a thought. You try to protest again, but it’s too late before you realize she’s used her magic to take away your voice. You try to talk, to scream, you yell until your throat hurts, try again but nothing escapes your mouth. It’s the first time she’s done something like that and you’re positively scared now.

Zelda grinds restlessly against you back, the bristles of the carpet unmerciful against the tender skin of your breast, your stomach, everything. She’s giving you carpets burn, they’re going to sting and hurt until she decides to heal them.

_ You’re hurting me! _

No sound comes from you. She doesn’t hear you.

_ Stop it, please! _

She doesn’t.

You scream your safe word. You have one, for times either of you reaches the limits. Still no sound. You turn your head over your shoulder, ignoring the pain in your neck as you try; your lips move. She’s not looking.

_ Oh, gosh, please- Lilith, help me. _

When her hand fists at your hair and slams mercilessly your head to the ground, you stop trying. Tears fall freely into the carpet now. Zelda keeps moving her hips on your back, pinning you to the floor, and her magic presses inside you, exploring, expanding, filling you to the unimaginable and you feel something within you snap, tearing apart; warm, thick liquid drips on the inside of your thigh. You scream in pain, but to her ears, you’re silent. For the first time, you beg for her to come soon and leave you alone.

You don’t know how much time has passed. The fire is out and in the mantle, only ashes remain. It’s dark and you wonder if you’re sleeping…  _ if you’re alive _ .

You feel the familiar shift of air, but it’s warmer this time. You’re pulled on your feet, but you’re too sore to stand on your own, your legs give out. A strong arm wraps around your waist, hoisting you up. You blink into the darkness and sighs in relief when you’re pulled against a warm body; the hold is firm but gentle, reassuring, comforting. It feels safe. You think it’s Zelda, so you cling to her, wrap her neck, rest your cheek on her shoulder. You feel a protruding bone you shouldn’t feel. Her skin smells of brimstone.

You frown, confused, slumber still fogging your mind.

You wonder if she’s removed the spell, you clear your throat to test your voice, but your wince in pain.

“Where have you been?” You ask anyway, voice hoarse. You’re asking where she’s been physically until now, but you’re also asking where your Zelda had been gone, the kind witch who calls you hers and cherishes you.

Zelda doesn’t reply. You blink again, trying so hard to see despite the darkness of the room. Then, a blow, the mantel lights up with fire. When your eyes focus, you gasp: you’re not holding on to Zelda, but Lilith, the Queen of Hell.

Frightened, exposed since you’re still naked, you back away, but she promptly holds you up, keeping you close to her. You’ve never seen her before, being mortal you’re not allowed in Hell or inside the Academy, so you’ve only imagined her face through Zelda and Sabrina’s stories. But there’s no room for mistake: that woman, that witch, who stands tall, eyes glimmering so blue and perfect, radiating the powers of the nine circles from her, is indeed Lilith, the Queen.

“Your- unholy… highness.” You stutter, uncertain on how to proceed from here.

“Lilith.” She corrects.

“How... why?”

“I’ve answered your prayer.” She simply replies, a bittersweet smile on her scarlet lips. “I’m sorry, I couldn't come sooner.”

You’re confused now, your head is pounding painfully.

“I’m a mortal. I- I have no rights, you-”

“I choose who’s worthy of my presence, Y/N.”

You’re flattered that she knows your name, and pride blooms inside your chest at the thought of Zelda talking about you with her Queen. You sigh, still within her hold, silently questioning yourself if you can actually stand on your own: it hurts, the pain is almost excruciating each time you heave a breath.

“Thank you.” You mumbled and out of mere pride you attempt to move, but you can’t, and hiss instead, squeezing your eyes.

“I’ve got you, don’t worry.”

You’re surprised by the tenderness of those words coming from the Queen of Hell, a demoness, someone ruthless, a men-eater like her. You hate the implication of that, though, because you’re admitting that Zelda, your beloved Zelda, Lilith’s High Priestess, has hurt somebody. You can’t betray her like that. You have to be strong and own your pain.

“I’m fine.” You grunt, inhaling through your nose and bear the breath down in the mere illusion that can alleviate the pain.

“Are you?” Lilith corks and eyebrows, and without warning her hand cups your sex. It’s a gentle touch, but you wince and squirm away from her in pain nonetheless. When she retrieves her hand and lifts it for you to see, her fingers are coated with your own blood. She stares at you knowingly. “I believe you’re no virgin, Y/N.”

You have no excuse for that and you resent Zelda for the things she’s done to you, but she’s still your girlfriend and it’s only been weeks since she hasn’t kissed you fondly at night, or held you and comforted you when you needed it.

“She’s stressed.” You mutter under your breath. Unknowingly, your fingers are stroking the skin of Lilith’s arm where she holds you around your waist.

Lilith tuts, scoldingly. You feel her warm breath on your neck.

“It doesn’t justify her.”

No, it doesn’t. You know that. “She loves me.” You say, almost stubbornly.

Lilith chuckles and you feel a strange tinge of rage radiating from her.

“That’s not love, pet. Trust me, I know.”

You stay silent. You’ve read Zelda’s Unholy Bible, you know Lilith’s story. You shake your head, eyes lost somewhere undefined in the room. “It’s different.”

Lilith stays silent, she rests her chin on your shoulders while she holds you, her hand rubs soothing circles on your stomach, where the knot of frustration, rage and betrayal still lingers behind your navel. She’s swaying with you now and you relax within her embrace.

“You won’t leave her, won’t you?” She whispers against the shell of your ear.

You shake your head. “No, I won’t. She needs me as much as I need her.”

Lilith places a kiss on top of your shoulder. You shudder at the unexpected action.

“Very well, then. We’ll wait for her together and have a chat.”

You’re grateful for it, so you nod at the words. You need someone with magic in case Zelda lashes out again, but you can’t ask any of the Spellmans, because you don’t really want to expose Zelda’s behavior to any of them if you don't have to.

Lilith shifts you slightly and you know she’s going to teleport the both of you somewhere, but you squeeze her arm lightly, drawing her attention.

“Lilith?” You bite the inside of your cheek. “Could you heal me, please?” You ask, pleading, even knowing that, as a mortal, you’re not allowed to ask favors from the Queen of Hell.

She shakes her head. “No. She has to see with her own eyes what she’s done to you.” She declares. “But I’ll take away the pain. You’ve suffered enough.” 

She keeps her promise and scoots you up effortlessly, hooking her arm under your knees, supporting your back when she lifts you. Lilith teleports you both in the bedroom you and Zelda share, she places you in the bed and lays with you, holding you close. Despite the faint smell of brimstone and ashes, you rest your cheek on her chest, close your eyes, and pretend it’s Zelda.

It’s almost dawn when Zelda enters your bedroom. She’s sober now, she’s taken potions, and she remembers everything vividly. When she enters and closes the door, she freezes and stares dumbly at you and Lilith holding each other in bed.

You look serene, there, as if you belong in those arms. She feels a tug at her stomach realizing you use to do the same with her: draping your leg on her waist, snuggling close to her breasts. You’re doing it now with another. And Zelda can only blame herself for it. She walks closer, and her breath hitches when she notices the stains on the sheets, red trails coming from your thighs, soling the white fabric. You’re still bleeding. Your body is covered with bruises, angry marks bearing the shape of her own hands are scattered around your limbs, your back is scratched and bloody, your cheek and your front - the parts she can see anyway - are red and irritated from the bristle of the carpet. Your eyes, though closed, are puffy and rimmed with fresh tears.

Zelda hurries to the bed, scoots to your side and grasps your shoulder. When you move, both you and Lilith stir, but no one says anything.

You untangle from Lilith and melt into Zelda’s embrace. You feel her shaking, sobbing, and you do the same, hiding your face in the crook of her neck.

“I’m sorry. I’m so,  _ so  _ sorry, darling.” She mumbles as she kisses your head. “It won’t happen again, not ever.” She promises and you believe her. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” You whisper against her skin, basking in her sweet scent that smells of home. You know you’ll be safe from now on because somehow you know Lilith will be there for you in case of need.

Zelda heals your wounds, and you wince against her skin as you feel the tissues mending within you.

“Well, I should go.” Lilith sighs suddenly. There is a hint of sadness in her voice.

Zelda is silent and you feel the shifting and the rustle of the sheets behind you. Blindly, you reach there, sighing when Lilith’s hand finds yours. “Stay. Please?”

With Zelda, you feel safe, but with Lilith there, you feel even safer. The demoness is looking at the witch, blue eyes almost pleading. “It’s fine with you?”

Zelda stares. You feel her nod against your head.

“Anything to keep her safe.” She murmurs, her voice thick with tears. She presses a kiss on top of your head when Lilith scoots closer, holding you both. “Anything.”

**Author's Note:**

> Got prompts? Hit me up with whatever is on your mind: 99% won’t judge.


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